


The Etymology of Vindication and Absolution

by BlackPebbleToad



Series: The Etymology Series [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alico - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Lovecraft Fusion, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Angst, Cthulhu Mythos, Drama, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hades (Percy Jackson) is a Good Parent, Hades is a Good Parent, Hurt/Comfort, Lamia, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Monster(s), M/M, Quests, References to Lovecraft, Series, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Zeus Being an Asshole (Percy Jackson), dark young - Freeform, dream walking, mistform, outer night, sentinel planet, solangelo, willco, willico
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28624341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackPebbleToad/pseuds/BlackPebbleToad
Summary: Sequel to The Etymology of Power and Resilience. After Nico is made into a Mistform by Hecate, he begins to work alongside Alabaster as he tries to unravel the meanings of the prophecy. Both demigods learn to see their place in the world through new eyes and discover that death can be more complicated than living.Meanwhile, Hades and Hecate both pursue their roles in the prophecy, preparing for the worst. Hades ventures out to discover what is lurking in the Outer Night while Hecate makes preparations for the coming days.Back at camp, Will and the others try to move forward after Nico's death, unaware of his choice to become a Mistform.Creatures of unknown origin are beginning to show themselves in the world and no one knows what consequences lie ahead should demigods and gods alike choose to resist.
Relationships: Alico - Relationship, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Calypso/Leo Valdez, Hades/Persephone (Percy Jackson), Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo/Alabaster Torrington, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Solangelo - Relationship, Willico - Relationship
Series: The Etymology Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040817
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13





	1. Meetings in the Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nico is dropped into a forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome to the second part of the Etymology series!! If you are joining in from part one, thanks for continuing with me! If you are just joining, I highly suggest you go back and read the first part: The Etymology of Power and Resilience. A lot of this story is NOT going to make sense otherwise!!!
> 
> I am really excited to get this started! I really hope that you guys enjoy! If you do please bookmark, subscribe, give kudos, and comment! I read each comment and reply to them. Happy reading!!

The boy stuck out his hand. “I’m Alabaster.”

Nico shook his hand warily. “Nico.”

“You sure you’re not--” Alabaster stopped speaking abruptly as a low growl emanated from the direction he had been running. When he spoke again, it was quiet and deliberate as though trying to not alarm Nico. “Okay. So. You should probably get away from here. I’ll hold it off but you need to leave.”

Nico blanched as the creature emerged. Out of the trees ambled a thick black body four times the height of a human. Three hoof-like legs, stout and hardened like an insect carapace, poked their way through the vegetation. Mouths. Multiple mouths adorned the body in no discernable pattern. Snot-like goo dripped from its teeth. Four tentacles as thick as tree-trunks undulated from atop the body while various smaller tentacles rippled and waved back and forth.

Alabaster whipped his head around, the calm tone from before gone. “You know, on second thought, let's run.” Alabaster looked back at him, his green eyes wild with panic. “Now!”

“There’s no way we’re outrunning that thing. We need to fight.” Nico readied himself and grasped for his Stygian blade only to find air. “Schist. Do you have any Celestial Bronze weapons? Imperial Gold?” The creature screeched and scuttled towards them, moving faster than its size would dictate. “Di immortales! What _is_ that?”

Alabaster shouted in his ear as the creature began to shriek. “You’re a demigod?!”

Nico kept his eyes on the creature. “Yes! I mean, no. Not anymore. I used to be!”

The other boy didn’t respond. He thrust his hand over Nico’s shoulder, aiming at the charging monster and yelled, “ _Incantare: Dis Bestia!_ ”

A bright green light shot from Alabaster’s hand. It touched upon the beast and pushed it backward fifty feet. 

Nico shouted, “We need it to go farther than that!”

Alabaster nodded. “That should have pushed it almost half a mile away.” Without missing a beat, he proceeded to shout again, touching one of the green symbols on his clothing. “ _Incantare: Gelu Semita!_ ” A slight frost formed on the ground and the temperature dropped. The creature shrieked, the sound ricocheting in Nico’s skull. 

“That should have frozen it! The spells aren’t working!” Alabaster sounded on the edge of panic. 

Nico fought the urge to roll his eyes but couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Gee, ya think?”

The creature reared back, balancing precariously on one of its tripod legs before bringing the other two barely a foot away from the demigods. Claws like pincers dragged through the earth creating furrows of ruined land. 

Nico threw himself backwards, pushing the other demigod to the ground in the process. 

The monster pulled itself over until it towered above them. 

Nico threw his arm behind him. “Take my hand!”

“What?” Alabaster’s muffled voice sounded surprised. 

“Just do it!” He felt the other boy slip his hand into Nico's. The son of Hades closed his eyes and reached for the shadows. The dappled sunlight of the forest gave plenty of opportunity for shadows. He could just whisk them away to another location and they’d be safe. He heard Alabaster yell but couldn't make out the words.

Nico felt a small tug in his gut but when he opened his eyes, they hadn’t moved an inch. He clenched his eyes shut and tried again. He heard Alabaster chuckle beside him as if amused by their imminent death.

“Are you only holding my hand because we’re going to die?” Alabaster sounded genuinely curious. 

“Shut up! Why don’t you do something to help?” Nico couldn’t understand why the monster wasn’t attacking them. Or why Alabaster was suddenly so calm. 

“Like hold someone’s hand and close my eyes?” Nico could hear the laughter in Alabaster’s voice. “I am doing something. If you would open your eyes again and look, you’d see that.”

When Nico did as Alabaster instructed, he saw that the creature _was_ still moving but in slow motion.

Nico let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “What did you do?”

Alabaster smiled tiredly. “ _Incantare: Tempus Tarda_. Nothing I was doing was affecting it-- not to the degree it should have, anyway. So,” the green-eyed boy gestured around him. “I aimed at something different: time.” A cocky smile stretched across his face. “You’re welcome.”

Nico flung Alabaster’s hand from him and stood up. “We better get out of here. While we have the chance.”

Alabaster pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his pants and readjusting the messenger bag slung over his back. “I can’t hold the spell much longer. I’m already--” Alabaster stumbled and, for a second, time resumed its normal pace. The monster pulled its legs into the air again, ready to strike. Nico hastily reached out to steady Alabaster, who threw his hand up and shouted, “ _Incantare: Tempus Tarda!_ ” 

The creature slowed once more, but not to the degree from before.

“Schist.” Nico glanced about him and saw an alcove of trees creating a dense darkness. He pulled Alabaster’s arm around his shoulders. “Come on. We gotta move.”

Alabaster didn’t respond. They hurried to reach the alcove. As soon as they were in shadow, Nico reached for the darkness again. 

“So,” Alabaster started, the fatigue ringing clear through his voice. “What’s the plan? We have maybe ten or fifteen seconds until I can’t sustain this any more.”

“Just be quiet. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.” Nico closed his eyes again, dimly aware of Alabaster’s arm shaking around his shoulder. He was likely to collapse at any second.

The shadows were wary of Nico, edging away from him like a dog unsure of being pet. He coaxed and cajoled them until, reluctantly, the shadows languidly slid over the duo. 

Alabaster whispered, “That’s it. I can’t hold it any more.”

Nico nodded curtly. “Let go.”

The creature brought its legs crashing down into the earth, tearing into the spot they had been one minute prior. It screeched and shrieked in dismay, its prey having alluded it. It scrambled about, turning in circles trying to find them. 

Alabaster took a shaky breath. He turned his palm slowly and deliberately so as to not make any noise. Once his palm was pressed against one of the green sigils on his shirt, he softly sighed, “ _Incantare: Viribus Accipere._ ” The green symbol glowed briefly on Alabaster’s shirt before it seeped into the skin of his palm. And then, just as carefully as earlier, Alabaster turned his palm outward and pointed his finger across the clearing and up the hill from where he had run. “ _Incantare: Ventus Celer!_ ”

A gust of wind shot across the clearing and tore up the mountain side. The monster let out a stomach-churning wail and clambered after the wind. After several moments, the sound of it crashing through the woods faded.

Nico let the shadows recede and turned to the boy beside him. “You okay?”

Alabaster, his skin an unhealthy shade, nodded haltingly. “Just...really tired. I hate having to pull the energy from my wards.”

“Wards?” Nico furrowed his brow. 

Alabaster waved his question away. “Later.” He took a deep breath and pulled his arm from around Nico’s shoulders. “Are _you_ okay? I mean...I ran into you, we fell down the very long and seemingly endless hill, then we fought that... _thing_. So,” Alabaster’s eyes raked over Nico. “Are. You. Okay?”

Nico glared at the other demigod. “I’m fine. It didn’t hurt. I didn’t feel…” Nico trailed off as he realized he hadn’t felt anything. No pain when Alabaster collided with him. No pain fighting the creature. He looked down at his palms. No scrapes. No bruises. “I didn’t feel anything.”

Alabaster looked Nico up and down, eyeing him suspiciously before zeroing in on something near Nico’s heart. He pointed to Nico’s shirt, his voice rising in disbelief. “What is that?”

Nico looked down. A green symbol, similar to the ones decorating the other boy’s clothes, glowed faintly against the black of his shirt. Nico looked up. “I have no idea.”

Alabaster’s eyes grew wide. He slung his bag off from around his shoulders, muttering to himself. “Why didn’t I see it before? Why would she do this? Why send me another one. I don’t _need_ another one.” From his bag he pulled out what seemed to be a box made for holding a deck of notecards. He opened it with a practiced flick of his wrist and removed the cards. Alabaster rifled through them, seeming to name them as he went. “Blade. Dad. Dad 2. Claymore. Backpa-- _what_.” 

He paused on a card. It was blank save for a small symbol that matched the one on Nico’s shirt. He squatted still and silent for a moment before jumping to his feet. He brandished the card to the sky. “Mother! What gives? First Claymore, now this guy? What, you think I need a friend or something? A playdate?” There was no reply from the heavens. None that Nico could hear. 

Alabaster sighed and dropped his hand, stuffing the card back into the box. He shoved the deck box into his bag and slung the bag over his shoulder. “So, are you one of mother’s constructs? Wait-- you said you _used_ to be a demigod? Did you die or something?”

Nico ignored the last question and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Who is your mother?” The sinking feeling in Nico’s gut told him that Alabaster was going to be the boy he had to help. Who had to help _him_. 

Alabaster shook his bangs out of his eyes. “Hecate.”

Nico sighed and looked to the heavens just as the other demigod had done moments before. “Seriously, Hecate? Are you sure this is the only path?”

“If she didn’t answer me,” Alabaster smirked, “she definitely won’t answer you. My mother actually _likes_ me.”

“Does she now? Is that why she saddled you with me?” It was Nico’s turn to grin as the smug smile dropped off the other demigod’s face.

“You know what? I don’t think I need you. I can just unsummon you and--” Alabaster had pulled his bag around again and was digging for the deck box. He had just pulled it from the bag when he stumbled to the side, dropping the box in the process. “Whoa.”

Nico reached out to steady the demigod. “Take it easy. You might have overdone it.”

“I didn’t overdo it. I--” Whatever the son of Hecate had been about to say, Nico would never know. Alabaster’s eyelids fluttered. The last glimpse Nico had of him was his eyes rolling back in his head and beginning to crumple to the floor of the forest.

Nico blinked. There was no more forest. No annoying Alabaster threatening to “unsummon” him. He was in a room, almost like the infirmary back at Camp Half-Blood. But the floors were stone. The walls were stone. Arched windows with stained glass filtered a dusky twilight into the room. A bookcase at the end of the room held a collection of dusty leather bound journals with no titles. Several armchairs and tables littered the space before the bookcase. 

“Well, hello there.”

Nico whirled around. An older man with green eyes and wavy brown hair similar to Alabaster’s stood with a saucer and cup of tea in his hands. He stared blankly at Nico. 

“Would you like some tea?” 

Nico blinked. “What?”

“Oh leave the boy alone! He doesn’t want any tea, you daft idiot! He can’t even drink it!” Nico turned, startled. A figure drew itself up from one of the armchairs. Nico hadn’t even realized the chair had been occupied. “You would think that boy would start making more _intelligent_ Mistforms.”

The speaker was a middle-aged man with a severe looking face. His mouth was framed by frown lines and his nose was a stern slope upon which perched a pair of spectacles. Watery grey eyes peered at him through the lenses of his glasses. Thinning hair combed sideways tried to hide a receding hairline. He wore tan trousers and a soft-looking cable knit sweater in a rather bland sand color. 

“Who? W-where?” Nico stuttered and looked around, nonplussed at the sights around him. Where was the forest?

The man looked down his long nose at Nico. “Well, not a construct then, I see.” The man closed the journal he had been reading and crossed to put it on the shelf. “Did Alabaster turn you into a Mistform? Or was it his mother?”

Nico swallowed. “You mean Hecate?”

“Yes. Hecate.” Nico nodded and the man continued. “Well, don’t offer any more details on my account.”

Nico shook his head and took a step toward the man. “I...died. Hecate offered to make me a Mistform.” He looked around the room. “I was in the forest with Alabaster and then...here? Where is here? Where’s the forest gone?”

The man tsked and resumed his seat, motioning for Nico to join him. “Well, since this room is still here, I can assume Alabaster didn’t _die_ at the very least. I have to say, I know I’m not much help to him with the physical fights-- I get in the way more often than not-- but he almost never summons me anymore unless he needs some answers.” He cocked his head to one side. “Or when he gets lonely, I suppose.”

Nico stayed where he was. “So where am I?”

“Yes, right. Well, Alabaster can’t maintain summonings when he’s asleep. Or did he pass out this time?” The man shook his head. “Either way, while he is not conscious, he cannot maintain Mistform summonings. The only magic that stays are the ones that have physical sigils in the real world-- not tied to this one. So all of us Mistforms and constructs like “Dad” over there,” he motioned to the tea-wielding man, “exist in this dimension.”

Nico crossed the room and slowly sank into one of the armchairs. “So...did you used to be someone too?”

The man smiled wryly and removed his glasses, inspecting and then cleaning the lenses with a handkerchief he pulled from his pants pocket. “Well, I was indeed someone once. A doctor actually.”

“Well, that’s noble, I guess.” Nico shrugged, unsure of what else to say. 

“Not _that_ kind of doctor.” The man huffed and pushed his spectacles back on his face. “I am a doctor of philosophy. I studied Metaphysics and gave philosophical assessments on the truth of matters such as the probability of an afterlife.”

Nico stared at the man who sighed and leaned forward, holding his hand out to the son of Hades. “My name is Dr. Howard Claymore. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	2. Nocturn Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alabaster remembers and Nico learns.

Chapter Two: Nocturn Memories

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alabaster felt as if he were on a ship-- the world tilting from side to side with nauseating rhythm. He groaned and struggled to open his eyes. He blinked heavily, soft moonlight falling into his vision. Small rocks dug into his side and the taste of dirt felt unpleasant in his mouth.

The son of Hecate groaned and pushed himself up to a sitting position to take better stock of his surroundings. The events from the day pushed to the front of his memory.

The forest-- he’d been in the forest for over a day. Alabaster hadn’t been lost at first. Not until that _thing_ had ambushed him. Trying to get away he had gotten turned around.

The creature-- it had attacked him first, hiding as if it had been waiting for him. An ambush predator. The monster had found him again and again.

The boy-- _Nico_. Who was the demigod? Why had his mother sent him? Something about the dark-haired boy was all too familiar. The scowl--his voice. Alabaster had heard Nico’s voice somewhere before.

The son of Hecate tried to stand. His legs quaked beneath him, threatening to give out. Quickly sitting back down and sighing, Alabaster wiped shaking hands across his face feeling his exhaustion more heavy than before. He pulled his pack around and rummaged through it, coming up with a water bottle and smashed crackers. The ambrosia and nectar had run out weeks ago. He sighed heavier than before. Alabaster _hated_ recovering the mortal way. 

Alabaster took small sips of the water and brought a cupped handful of cracker bits to his mouth before digging through his backpack again.

“Compass, compass….where are you?” Feeling around the canvas bottom of the sack, his hand closed around a small compact disc. Pulling the compass out, Alabaster let the backpack fall to the side. “Alright. Let’s figure out where we are then.” He flipped open the cover and waited for the red arrow to steady. He had been heading NorthEast away from the California coastline. Judging by the direction to which the creature had retreated, it had pushed him onto an almost entirely Eastern path.

Alabaster fought the urge to sigh once more. Backtracking was out of the question-- they had sent the creature back that way. It would take the better part of the week to go around trying not to encounter the creature again if he still wanted to reach his original destination. And he did. Rainbow Organic Foods & Lifestyles was the only shop in the area that would carry anything a demigod might need. 

Alabaster stuffed his compass back into the bag. Pulling the backpack with him, he pushed himself back until he felt a tree against his back. He sagged wearily against it and rolled up his sleeves. His veins stood in stark contrast to his pale skin. His muscles ached. His bones ached. 

Leaning back against the tree, Alabaster succumbed to his fatigue and slipped into the grips of dreams and memory.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Alabaster gazed out across the shifting waters, eyes settling on the masthead of the Princess Andromeda. Terror stole any of the beauty she had once had. Her face twisted with fear as small waves crashed against her, the cruise ship pushing through the waters. Luke had made the joke that maybe she was fearful of what she was carrying aboard her decks. Alabaster had pointed out that maybe she was, in fact, horrified that she would be the one to pay the price for her mother’s arrogance and foolishness-- that the gods were the ones who demanded such a sacrifice._

_Luke had laughed and turned to their silent companion. The boy’s eyepatch matched his dark hair. “What do you think, Ethan?”_

_Never taking his eyes from the sea, Ethan answered, “Maybe she was just afraid to die.”_

_But neither demigod was with him now. Beyond the waters, Alabaster could see the dark outline of New York on the distant horizon. They’d be there by dawn._

_The upper decks were filled with patrols and guards-- dracanae, telkhines, and hellhounds. Alabaster scanned the skies until--there. A black blur, almost too fast to see. But they were all on the lookout._

_Alabaster turned from the waters and made his way across the deck. A pair of dracanae hissed as he approached._

_“Ssssir? Issss it time?” The pair looked nervous and Alabaster couldn’t blame them. If things went wrong, they’d all die._

_“I believe so. Go tell Nakamura. They’re heading to the stern decks-- the lower ones if reports are to be believed. Get Sarah as well-- that daughter of Apollo. She and her archers are needed on the main upper deck.” Alabaster swallowed. “I’ll go inform Lu-- Lord Kronos.”_

_The dracanae slithered away. Alabaster took a deep breath and entered the main dining hall. Floor to ceiling windows encased the vast room, letting in dazzling sunlight. A tall golden-haired boy stood looking out over the sea._

_When the boy spoke, his voice was cold and heavy with ancient knowledge and ruthlessness. “They are arrived then?”_

_Alabaster knelt on one knee. “Yes, my Lord Kronos. I’ve raised the alarm to Ethan and Sarah as we-- as you planned.” Alabaster kept his eyes on the carpet, watching as Luke’s feet turned and stepped toward him._

_“Stand up.”_

_Alabaster stood but did not look higher than the Titan’s chest. Luke’s chest._

_“Do your siblings have the same control over the Mist as you?”_

_Alabaster blinked. “Maybe not as much as I do but, yes-- they do very well with the Mist.”_

_Kronos turned to look back over the water. “Have your siblings take your place. You will go down with Nakamura to prevent any oversights or damages.”_

_Alabaster opened his mouth to protest, “But Lord Kronos--”_

_Kronos’ voice, when it sounded, was quiet and freezing. “But?”_

_“I, I didn’t mean--”_

_“Alabaster. You may lead the demigods, but I am_ your _master.” Kronos turned and his eyes flashed gold. “You’d best remember that or I will find another.”_

_Alabaster shut his mouth and nodded before backing away from Kronos and exiting the room. He swiped a shaking hand over his face before straightening his shoulders and striding forward._

_The son of Hecate talked his siblings through the altered plan. David and Juan would each oversee a side of the ship. Ricky, Fay, and Dorothy were in charge of patches: hiding the giants and archers until the last moment was imperative. Harry, at seven years old, would be in charge of bringing his siblings anything they needed and staying out of the line of fire._

_Full of misgivings, Alabaster left his siblings on the upper main deck and jogged down the stairs, trying to find Ethan. Rounding a corner he ran into a young boy and an even younger telkhine._

_“Freddie, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. You alerted us and that’s what matters!” The young boy had his arm around the telkhine who clutched his Lil’ Demons lunchbox and sobbed._

_“I was so scared. He killed everyone. And I couldn’t do anything! He killed BoBo and Clint and I thought he was going to kill me too. I was…” Whatever the telkhine had been about to say was lost in the choking sobs of the seal-dog._

_The young boy-- a camper from the Roman stronghold near San Francisco-- looked up as Alabaster approached. He scrambled to stand up straight and salute Alabaster. The son of Hecate waved the gesture away._

_“I’m sorry, sir! I-- there was--I didn’t.”_

_Alabaster placed a hand on the demigod’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath and calm down. Then tell me what happened.”_

_The camper breathed in deeply though his nose before starting again. “It was that demigod. The one we were told to watch out for. He--” The boy shuddered. “He told me if we want to live to get off the ship and to tell the other demigods.”_

_Alabaster’s insides froze. The reports said there were supposed to be two demigods. If they were separated, it was possible that they were trying to create a diversion._

_Alabaster knotted his hand in the demigods shirt. “You need to get off the ship. Both of you. Head straight to the lifeboats and don’t turn back. If any one questions what you’re doing, tell them I gave you a direct order. Got it?”_

_The demigod shook his head. “But, sir--”_

_“I said, get off the ship.” Alabaster could see the gears turning in the demigod’s head and quickly gave him a reason to get off the boat. “Listen, I need someone to view the attack from off ship. We need to make sure there are no surprises and that they haven’t brought more forces with them. Can you do that for me?”_

_The young boy straightened, puffing his chest out. “Of course I can do that. And Freddie will help, won’t you Freddie.”_

_The telkhine nodded, his sobs subsiding into hiccups._

_“Good man.” The boy beamed with pride. “What’s your name?”_

_“Henry. Son of Mars.” Alabaster shook his head slightly. Two camps. And the gods had let them all believe there was just one. Just another lie the gods had told them to keep their combined powers separated._

_Alabaster brought his hand to his head and gave a short salute. “Well met, Henry. You’ll make your father proud. Now, go!”_

_Alabaster didn’t wait to see them walk away instead whirling to sprint down the remaining stairs._

_“Ethan! Where are you?” Alabaster shouted his friend’s name down the hallways branching from the stairs._

_“Alabaster! What are you doing down here? Is the fight up top already over?”_

_Ethan emerged from one of the hallways leading to the engine rooms. Grasped tightly in his hold was Charles Beckendorf._

_Charles looked shocked to see him. “Ala...Alabaster?_ This _is where you’ve been? But, you left even before Luke! I thought you had died or something.”_

_Alabaster glared at Beckendorf. “Or something. I came to my senses, Beckendorf.”_

_The Hephaestus camper glowered at him. “But you were claimed, Alabaster. That’s more than a lot of campers get.”_

_Alabaster scoffed. “And I should be happy with that? My_ mother _should be happy with that? You live in a world where inequality is expected and accepted. Just because of who our parents are...that decides our worth? Our value?” Alabaster walked closer to Beckendorf, his voice growing softer and softer with each word spoken. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I_ don’t _accept that. It’s not right. We should all be equal. We should all have a voice.”_

_“And you think Kronos will give that to you?”_

_Alabaster laughed. “Maybe. Probably not. But working with him, we’ve discovered so much more about our world. More than the gods would ever be willing to tell us. Because they’re_ scared _of us. Of what we can do. Together.”_

_The anger dropped from Alabaster’s voice. “Just surrender, Beckendorf. We can build a better world. One where your dad isn’t the butt of jokes. One where demigods like me won’t be looked down upon just because our parents don’t sit on Olympian thrones. Please.” Alabaster stuck out his hand._

_Charles shook his head, a heavy sadness weighing his mouth down in the corners. “What happened to you, Alabaster?”_

_Alabaster sighed. “I decided to be the change I wished to see in the world.”_

_The son of Hecate turned toward Ethan. “Try to get Kronos to spare his life. Remember, we’re fighting the gods-- not the demigods. Even if they’ve chosen the wrong side, I don’t want to see them hurt.”_

_Ethan nodded. “And the other one? Percy Jackson?”_

_Alabaster shrugged. “I haven’t met him but from what I’ve heard...after everything the gods have done to him...I don’t understand why Poseidon’s kid would fight for them. There has to be a chance he’d switch sides. If we could just talk to him.”_

_Ethan shook his head. “I met him in the Labyrinth and the Underworld. I don’t think there’s anything that will change his mind. Our best shot is that kid of Hades. He was in the Labyrinth and the Underworld too-- with Percy.”_

_“Take Beckendorf up top then. Kronos will want to talk to him. Did he place anything?”_

_Ethan shook his head. “He was going toward the engine rooms. And he still has his bag with everything in it.”_

_Alabaster looked at the closed bag and frowned. “That’s all the explosives he brought? Did you check?”_

_But Ethan had already turned away with the other guards and was marching Charles Beckendorf up the stairs to the upper deck._

_Alabaster knew Charles. The guy was anything but sloppy. Methodical? Yes. Logical? Definitely. Overly-prepared? 100%. But sloppy? Never._

_The feelings of misgiving returned. Alabaster turned and ran to the engine room. The chain bolted across the access hatch had been cut. The son of Hecate flung the door open with such force it clanged against the wall with a thundering echo. Yellow turbines churned and hummed in a row. The opposite wall held computer terminals and pressure gauges. Jars of Greek fire littered the room, duct taped to terminals and monitors, turbines and pipes._

_Alabaster felt the blood drain from his face. He turned and bolted. Reaching deep into his pocket, he brought out what looked to be a pig’s ear adorned with a sigil-- a straight vertical line with two adjoining lines on the right going down at an angle. It looked like an angled “F.”_

_“Incantare: Auris Loquere.”_

_Alabaster didn’t stop running even when the pig’s ear wriggled and David’s voice crackled out of it. “Alabaster? Where are you? You need to get up here. Beckendorf only had peaches in his bag. There’s--”_

_“David, listen to me. The ship’s going to blow. Get all the demigods you can and run to the lifeboats. Jump if you have to. I’ll find you guys. But you need to get off. Now!”_

_“But--” Whatever David was going to say next was lost when Alabaster crashed into someone pounding down the stairs. The pig’s ear went flying._

_Alabaster toppled down the stairs, limbs tangling with the other demigod. Black hair, olive skin, eyepatch._

_“Thank the….Ethan, we have to get out of here. Now!”_

_Ethan talked over Alabaster. “The bombs. He set the bombs and--”_

_They both froze for a split second as they heard an ominous rumble. Without thinking, Alabaster threw his arms around Ethan and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Sending up a desperate prayer to his mother, he shouted, “Incantare: Praesidium Eum!”_

_The world exploded. Green fire rained down and rolled out in vicious whips. The walls crumbled and melted. Alabaster kept holding Ethan as alarms blared and monsters and demigods alike screamed._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lights in the room flickered softly before darkening to a soft glow. Claymore sighed from his arm chair. “Poor boy. Nightmares again.”

Nico tore his gaze from the lights. “You can tell that? From in here?” Nico shook his head. “I thought you said this was a different dimension? So, if Alabaster can affect it, then it’s not really separate, is it?”

Claymore steepled his fingers before him and rested them against his thin lips. “It’s actually a very interesting topic. I _think_ that Alabaster doesn’t actually affect the room. He affects _our perception_ of the room.” Claymore slipped into a fluid and clearly enunciated voice which Nico was coming to understand as his “professor” voice. “We only exist through Alabaster. At least, that is my theory. Since we cannot exist in the physical world any longer and we rely on Alabaster to summon us-- we cannot summon ourselves-- then, once Alabaster dies, we would cease to exist. As is seen with our banishment to this very room when not being called upon or, as you have seen, when Alabaster is incapacitated in one form or the other.”

Claymore studied Nico seriously. “Does that make sense, Mr. di Angelo?”

Nico nodded. “I guess.” 

Nico lapsed into silence, glancing about the room. It was a rather cozy room. At first he had thought it similar to an infirmary but the longer Nico stayed the more it seemed as if a large library had been stuffed into a smaller room. Several doors were placed along the walls with no indication of where they led. More and more books, Nico was discovering, were laying about-- under tables, between cushions, behind shelves.

Nico gestured to the journals. “So, what are all of these?”

Claymore shrugged. “Journals.”

“Of?”

“Oh, well now, lots of subjects.” Claymore reached and picked up a tome from the side table. It was in decent condition with just a bit of wear around the edges of the spine. “I just finished reading this one. It was written by a Leroy Soelberg. The last entry came from his companion-- Leroy himself died when his sword failed him. Apparently, Mr. Soelberg was a son of Apollo.”

Nico stooped in his chair to pick up another leatherbound journal with a newer face and flipped open the cover. Inside, the inscription read: _Prophetic Dreams and Observations, Octavian Felix._

“This isn’t...this isn’t really his?” Nico flipped through the pages, coming to the last entry:

_Tomorrow we will strike the Greek camp. Probatio Lawrence has not returned with the traitor Reyna. I will push forward and do what I must: the future of New Rome and demigods demands it._

Nico slammed the book shut and tossed it away from him. Claymore simply raised an eyebrow. 

“How...how come these books, these journals are here?”

Claymore shook his head. “That I don’t know. I have a chart...” Claymore stood and moved stacks of books until he found a sheet of paper. “Right here!” He crossed the floor to Nico and held it out. On it were multiple names with check marks, x’s, and question marks littered in boxes next to each name. “Sometimes it’s hard to determine who the writer’s parents are. Some never make reference. Others...well, it’s just easier with some if they absolutely detest their godly parent. I think each of the writers is dead. The older the book looks, the longer ago it appeared here.” Claymore shrugged and took the sheet back from Nico. “It’s a theory anyway.”

Nico stared into the empty fireplace. “Why would you spend your time reading these?”

The doctor ran a hand through his hair. “Well, there’s not much else for me to do here. I’ll sometimes venture out if I want to find older journals--”

Nico pointed to one of the doors. It was a plain and simple door, painted black with flaking gold lettering. “That leads to more journals?”

Claymore cleared his throat impatiently. “If you would be so kind as to not interrupt me I might finish telling you.” He waited to see if Nico would interject again. When the son of Hades didn’t, Claymore continued. “ _That_ door does not. The others lead to hallways, more rooms. I haven’t quite discovered how big this place actually is. But the further and further you go, the older the texts become. And,” Claymore shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not always safe.”

Nico leaned forward in his chair. “Not safe? How?”

Claymore pulled his glasses from his face and wiped them on his sleeve before placing them back on his nose. “Well, I can’t say that I rightly know. I don’t stick around to find out what they are.”

The pair lapsed into silence again before Nico pointed to the black and gold door. “You said that one doesn’t lead to the rest of…” Nico gestured around him. “This? Where does it go?”

Claymore glanced at the door and smiled softly, a look of melancholy settling over his face. “Oh. That one. It leads to dreams.”

Nico blinked. “Dreams?”

“Yes.” Claymore sighed. “The dreams of the living. I don’t go through there much. I don’t really have any friends that are still alive and..well, it just makes me sad knowing that I can’t have my own dreams ever again.” Another sigh, full of longing, escaped Claymore. “But, what can you do? I should be happy enough to have all of this knowledge. And Alabaster. He...he grows on you.”

Nico looked toward the door again. “Can anyone go through there?”

“You mean out of you, me, and the other Mistforms? I’m assuming so. I have not had any issues with it. However, I _am_ the only Mistform who has had an inclination to do so-- the others don’t have any aspirations outside of what Alabaster created them for.”

Nico stood and walked toward the door. He placed his hand upon the chipping paint but drew it back, startled. “It’s warm.”

Claymore shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

Nico returned his attention to the opening. The flaking gold traced the edges of the door. Although there were patches where the gold had fully gone, faint outlines--sigils, symbols-- spoke to what had once been apparent. Nico traced one of the runes with his finger. Very, very faintly, almost as if it was imagined, Nico heard the sound of a flute piping along with a discordant violin. Nico frowned. 

“What do you suppose these are?”

There was no response. Nico turned and blinked. The room was gone. Claymore and the tea-toting “dad” were gone along with the journals and furnishings. Nico was back in the forest. The edges of dawn were approaching-- Nico could see the brightening of the sky on the horizon.

“What do I suppose what is?” Alabaster sat on the ground in front of Nico, his back resting against a tree. Dark circles sagged under his eyes. The son of Hecate looked entirely the worse for wear. 

Nico waved away his question. “Nevermind. I was talking to Claymore.”

Alabaster smiled, his eyes lighting up. “How is the old man? I haven’t had time to talk to him lately. The doc’s not the best in a fight.”

Nico smirked. “Actually, I think he’s happy to have someone to lecture and theorize with.”

The other demigod chuckled. “That’s Claymore for you. My dad--” Alabaster stopped abruptly and didn’t say anything for several seconds. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you.”

Nico gazed at the demigod warily. “About what?”

Alabaster grinned. “You, actually. And where you come from. I don’t think I’ve met you before today; and, I know a lot of demigods. You’re probably Greek based on your fighting style. I’d say fourteen, maybe fifteen? Which means that you were old enough to fight in the Second Olympian War. And up until very recently, you were alive. Which means you either didn’t fight in the war…” Alabaster’s eyes grew dark. “Or you fought for the Gods.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another chapter down. I hope you guys enjoy it and that you were able to catch some references to very minor characters in the first series. Namely, the telkhine with the lunchbox and the young demigod (I gave the names and lineage)-- both were present from Percy’s account of blowing up the Princess Andromeda with Beckendorf. Another character that is only ever mentioned by name and died in 1999 is Leroy-- “This sword broke and got Leroy killed” (in reference to the broken hilt of his sword in the attic with the Oracle). Also, each of the names of Alabaster’s siblings are after famous magicians. Just for fun.


	3. Selcouth Similarities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nico is questioned and discovers what lurks beyond the room in the Mist.

Chapter 3: Selcouth Similarities  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nico remained silent, stuck for words. Alabaster smiled, the warmth never reaching his eyes. 

"You know, I thought you seemed familiar. Your voice." Alabaster's eyes flicked to Nico's face. "Your eyes." 

Nico looked to the ground, avoiding the son of Hecate's gaze. 

"And then, I had a dream, and it suddenly struck me how I knew you. Although, the last time I saw you, you were rather shorter. I believe you and your father came late to the Battle of Manhattan, didn't you? Son of Hades?"

Nico glanced back up at the other demigod. Alabaster was as pale as his namesake. Through his stern glare and strong facade, Nico could see the boy trembling-- could see just how very weak the son of Hecate was. 

Nico raised an eyebrow. "You look like you're going to pass out. Maybe you should be resting."

Alabaster scoffed, but his cheeks colored slightly, and he averted his gaze. 

Nico pressed on, stooping to pick up a blade of grass. He twirled it between his fingers and continued. "People were always telling me to rest, but I never listened. It caused a lot of problems that I really could have avoided." Nico sighed and flicked the piece of grass away. "But, continue being stubborn. You'll pass out again, and I'll continue the conversation I was having with Claymore. It was more interesting anyway."

The tension left Alabaster, his shoulders sagging. "I know. I know I need to rest more. But," the demigod looked over his shoulders and around the clearing. "I don't trust sleeping here. I've already stayed too long."

Nico rolled his eyes before crossing to stand in front of the son of Hecate. He huffed and reached out his hand. Alabaster looked at the offered hand for a moment before taking it and letting Nico pull him to his feet. 

"So? Let's start walking." Nico slung Alabaster's arm over his shoulders and waited for the other boy to move. The son of magic took a shaking step forward before halting. 

"Give me….just give me a second." Alabaster closed his eyes and swayed on the spot, leaning slightly into Nico. 

Nico took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Can you please just accept my help?"

Alabaster opened his eyes and looked warily at the son of Hades. 

"I could give you a piggyback? I mean," Nico briefly wondered if Mistforms could blush. "If you're worried about staying here and you're too tired to walk quickly enough to make traveling away from here even worth it, you might as well accept the help. My sister used to do that for me when I was tired. When we were younger." Nico trailed off and looked sideways at the boy, uncertainty lacing his words. 

Alabaster frowned. "I should walk. Besides, you're not a pack animal."

Nico snorted, a smirk rising unbidden to his lips. "No, I'm not. I'm just dead. What does it matter so long as it gets you to safety?"

Alabaster still looked uncomfortable with the idea. Nico sighed and offered one more incentive. 

"We can talk while I walk. That way, your mind is off of it."

It took a moment, but Alabaster eventually nodded in agreement. 

Nico knelt with one knee on the ground. Once he felt Alabaster settle against his back, Nico stood. Slightly hunched over, Nico cupped his hands beneath Alabaster's knees. 

"So? Where to?"

Alabaster pointed. "North."

Nico heaved Alabaster a bit further up his back and started to walk. 

The two demigods traversed the first mile in silence. Although the track was mostly uphill, Nico didn't lose his breath. His muscles didn't ache. His lungs didn't wheeze. Even the added weight of Alabaster on his back was negligible. Alabaster slowly relaxed and let his head rest against Nico's shoulder. He gazed out over the forest, his eyes tired but still on the lookout for danger. 

They had traveled close to another mile before Alabaster began to speak. 

"Why did my mother send you? How did you die?"

Nico stumbled, caught off guard by the questions. Sighing, he readjusted his grip before continuing. The silence stretched between them. Alabaster fidgeted on his back, and Nico heard him inhale to ask his question again. Before he could voice it, Nico answered. 

"I honestly don't know why your mother sent me. To you."

Alabaster waited for Nico to continue. When he didn't, Alabaster prodded. "And you died how?"

"I...I had to die. There was something wrong with my soul. I had to die to fix it. I had to do it before I lost myself."

In the silence that followed, the two boys could hear birds' calling in the woods. The creaking of trees created a backdrop of low noise accompanied by the crunch of pine needles, leaves, dirt, and debris beneath Nico's feet. 

"So were you at the Battle of Manhattan?"

Nico nodded, sure that Alabaster was watching him. "I was. I convinced my dad to fight."

"But why? Why fight for the gods? After everything they've done? After everything they've continued to do?"

Nico hissed, "Don't confuse my allegiance for consent of their actions. You have no idea how the gods ruined my life. They--" Nico swallowed his words and took a calming breath. "The thing is, the gods have been changing. And not _all_ of them are complete and utter bastards like Zeus. My dad isn't as bad as Zeus."

"And was I right about your dad?"

A feral smile twisted Nico's mouth. "I'm the Ghost King. The son of the God and Keeper of the Underworld, Lord Hades." His face dropped. "At least, I was."

The two demigods lapsed into silence once more. Nico trudged up the hills and through the forest. He had almost thought Alabaster had fallen asleep before he realized that if the son of Hecate had indeed fallen asleep, Nico wouldn't be in the forest anymore. 

Alabaster cleared his throat. "We can stop. We should be far enough." 

Nico didn't comment but halted and gently lowered Alabaster from his back. He stood straight and turned to face the other boy. 

"I don't know you, but I don't have a love for the gods. I do think my father and several others have changed and are trying to do better--"

Alabaster shook his head. "I don't know if I can believe that. For all I know, you've been manipulated and persuaded by the gods. Someone who's so easily swayed--I don't know if I can trust them." Alabaster looked straight at Nico. "I don't know if I can trust you."

Nico shrugged, a skeptical and incredulous smile pulling at his lips. "So you accepted a piggyback ride from someone you don't think you can trust? That's weird."

Nico flopped onto the ground and stretched his legs out in front of him. "I don't know why your mom sent me here. And I can't tell you anything that will make you trust me. But," Nico cocked his head to one side. "There's no real reason for you not to trust me. Besides, it's not like I can do you much harm. Dead, remember?"

Alabaster frowned. "Yeah. A very mysterious death, at that." Alabaster lowered himself to the ground across from Nico. "It just screams trust that you won't tell me the circumstances surrounding your death. How was your soul in danger? What was happening? Why were you losing yourself?"

Nico shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it just yet. But, I swear on the River Styx that you can trust me or that I'm trustworthy as long as you're not a psychopath."

Alabaster shook his head. "Oaths don't matter. Not for Mistforms. Not for the incorporeal who no longer answer to the soul's consequences. You can make all the oaths you want, but it won't do any good." At Nico's disbelieving look, Alabaster continued. "Seriously. The threads of fate no longer bind those beyond death's reach. You can try to make an oath. It won't work."

Alabaster studied Nico before shrugging his arms from his backpack. He pushed it to the side and laid down sideways, pillowing the side of his face against his pack. "For now, I don't think I trust you. But, as you said, there's no real reason for me not to trust you." Alabaster closed his eyes and smiled hazily. "Besides, it's not like you could do anything to hurt me or betray me. Even if you wanted to."

Alabaster yawned widely and waved his hand vaguely in Nico's direction. "Night, Nico. Talk to you later."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nico blinked. The forest disappeared, and the bookshelves reappeared. He sighed. The flipping back and forth between the "real" world and the Mist world was getting tiresome. 

Nico turned to the armchairs, expecting to see Claymore, when he heard a small sound coming from a dark corner. A two-sided bookcase filled with worn-looking journals blocked the recess. 

Nico looked back to the armchairs, but they were empty. The doctor was missing. Another scuffle came from behind the bookcase--a slight sense of life Nico hadn't picked up on before. 

"Claymore?"

There was no reply. 

Nico quietly strode forward, his steps cautious. _Could Mistforms be harmed in the Mist realm?_ A soft scratching, like the sound of rats, persistently continued. Nico took a deep breath and rounded the corner of the bookcase. 

At first, he didn't know what languished in front of him. The thing curled in upon itself; one arm draped across the front of its body as if for protection, hugging its shoulder. The other arm stretched overhead, nails digging into the wooden walls as it dragged downward. The creature was human-- at first glance. But as Nico studied the thing more intently, the more he realized the face was blurred-- white skin blackened and smudged as if someone had tried to brush away charcoal. Features washed away into ash and smoke, blurring the creature's outline.

The creature twitched, the realization of being observed setting in. Although Nico could see no discernable mouth, he could hear the creature moan. A desperate quiet noise, begging for a reprieve. 

Horrified, Nico stumbled back. His heels caught the edge of an end table, and he fell backward. He scrambled back from the pitiful creature, which had stopped its insistent scratching and had reached out to him with both arms, arching its back as if to try to gather the strength to move forward to grab him. 

Nico clambered to his feet and dashed to a door. Reaching it, he flung it open and shoved himself through, slamming the wooden barrier behind him. He leaned back against the sturdy door and tried to catch his breath.

What _was_ that? 

As Nico's breathing calmed, he looked around him. A rather dusty hallway--small, like the type of hallway in a house-- sprawled before him, multiple doors and branches of other hallways littering its seemingly never-ending expanse. Precariously stacked piles of books dotted the corridor. The covers of what Nico presumed were journals seemed older than those lying in the room behind him. Yellowed pages and fraying corners of covers spoke to their age. 

Nico hesitantly stepped forward, reaching out to pick up the journal closest to him, flipping to the last entry. 

_Fatima El-Shafei_

_Dersim 1938_

_Mama doesn't know why I've been crying all day. I've tried to tell her how much I love her if the worst happens. But I can't drag myself from the dreams I've had over the last week. The unsettlement in the region has reached a crescendo._

_I dreamt men with cruel mouths dragged away Faruq. When mama and Amin and Qawmin awoke in my dream, the men came again. They locked us in with the feed for the beasts. Mama screamed and tried to break the walls. The twins cried. They went to sleep with the smoke before the flames found us. But I felt it all._

_Please let my dreams be false. Please, Apollo. Let my dreams be false._

Nico threw the journal away from him. He looked down the hallway. 

"Claymore!"

No answer. 

"Claymore!"

Only silence met his call. Nico moved forward, his slow steps reaching a jog. He ignored doors and branching corridors, focusing only on what lay before him. Stacks of books and flashes of hallway rushed by him as he picked up speed. 

Nico did not know how long he had been moving. He didn't feel the passage of time. Didn't thirst. Didn't hunger. He only moved forward in a single line, sometimes moving with the hallway's curve to the left or the right. 

The path before and behind him stretched seemingly unendingly.

Nico cried out desperately, "Claymore!" 

"Nnnnnnnn." A keening moan echoed down the hallway from the direction he had been heading. Nico halted and peered down the corridor. Nothing moved, but Nico could feel a faint pulse-- the shadow of life-- beyond. Nico kept still, no longer shouting for Claymore. He kept his eyes open, glued to the expanse before him, waiting for-- _there_.

Something scuttled from one stack of books to the next, hiding behind the twisting towers of journals. Nico watched for several more moments. The creature scampered from its hiding place to the next, closing in on Nico. 

It was a bent thing, hunched over on all fours. Its legs jutted out at ninety-degree angles from its body as if they were a second set of arms. Its head rested on a long and spindly neck, beady black eyes reflecting the hallways' lights. Greasy brown hair hung in strands around its face, and its mouth was a gaping black hole. 

As it found yet another pile of books to hide behind and an echoing whisper of "Nnnnnnnnuuuuuu" sounded from the stack, Nico didn't wait. He turned and began to run back the way he came. He had only taken ten steps before he heard another sound, this one coming from in front of him, from the direction of where he had left the room with the armchairs and the dream door—a high-pitched shriek. 

And then something was hurtling toward him so quickly he barely had time to register a set of elongated fingers and a pair of reddened and bloodshot eyes before the thing crashed into him and he fell to the floor. Nico felt the same tremulous trace of warped life flickering on top of him. 

A keening wail rose in volume behind him, and he heard the sound of the other creature racing forward from behind. 

His reflexes kicked in, and Nico heaved all of his weight sideways, rolling so that the creature atop him would fall to the side. Even as the beast lost its balance, Nico used his momentum to lever himself up until he straddled the red-eyed monster. He looked down. 

The creature's eyes rolled in its head, long fingers reaching out to his neck. Its jaws worked furiously up and down, a shuddering groan issuing from its throat without stopping. 

Nico pushed himself up and away from the creature and ran forward, heading back to the library room with which he was the most familiar. 

Nico turned, the vast hallway stretching behind him. He could hear the two creatures pursuing him. Their forms twisted and blurred as he gazed back, fear and anticipation driving him forward lest those hooked fingers close over his shoulder. 

He could see the door ahead. Twenty feet away. Ten. Five. 

Nico's fingers closed around the handle, and he pulled, flinging himself back into the room. He slammed the door shut behind him and braced himself against it, ready for the creatures to force their way into the room. 

But the creatures never came. Nico felt no figures barrel into the door, banging their fists against it in a desperate attempt to get in. No snarls, wails, or screeches sounded from behind. Nico turned and, hesitating only a moment, slowly eased the door open a crack. 

He peered down the empty hallway, which was bereft of everything but the sprawling stacks of journals and the empty cobwebs and dust. 

"So I take it you had a run-in with the things in the Stacks?"

Nico whipped around, his hand flying to his belt where his Stygian sword used to be as the door slammed shut behind him once more. 

Claymore raised an eyebrow, bemusement spreading across his face. 

"Well now. Don't let me startle you."

"Claymore! Where _were_ you?" 

Claymore's lips pulled up in a half-smile. "Not that it's any of your business, but I had an inclination to visit someone in their dreams." Claymore crossed over to the darkened corner from which Nico had run earlier. 

"Don't! There's something there!"

Claymore lazily looked back at Nico before directing his attention forward once more. He closed the space between himself and the corner before squatting down. He offered his hand to the dark corner. 

"Come on now. It's not so bad." The scratching ceased, and Claymore smiled, soft and full of pity. "There now. Up you get."

Nico saw pale and blurred fingers reaching out to the doctor and wrapping around his hand. Claymore stood and gently pulled the creature forward and out of the shadows. 

Its head cocked to the side, still smoky and smudged. Nico sensed it again: that warped sense of life.

As Claymore and the figure made their way closer to the center of the room, Nico heard a voice speak from the left. 

"Would you like some tea?"

Nico jerked his head to see the figure of Alabaster's "Dad" standing with a tea-laden tray. His green eyes and wavy brown hair were as Nico remembered. His clothing-- a dark gray suit jacket and matching pair of trousers with a white button-up shirt and muted red tie-- was neat and prim with no wrinkle in sight. He stood by the armchairs, not seeming to notice or care about Nico's alarm or Claymore's consternation. And Nico sensed it with the construct too, although not as a smeared and blurred presence but as a clear solid line: a small glow of life. 

Why hadn't he sensed it before?

"Not now, please." Claymore drew closer to the armchairs until he could guide the creature to take a seat. As the thing sat, Nico noticed details that had escaped him in the dark: blurry brown hair, a matching gray suit with a red tie burned through with holes. 

Nico looked between the tea-toting "Dad" and the figure in the armchair. 

"But...but they're…"

Claymore sighed and removed his spectacles, rubbing his eyes. 

"The same." Claymore shoved his glasses back onto his face and gestured toward the Mist construct standing by the chairs, ready to pour tea. "That's Dad 2. This here," Claymore motioned at the figure in the chair. "Is the original Dad. Alabaster's sister destroyed his card back in Keeseville, NY when she tried to kill us."

Nico swallowed heavily. "So, things can destroy us in the real world?"

Claymore sat up straighter. "Not entirely, no. If our cards get damaged, we mirror that damage. If there's anything left of the card, Alabaster tries to fix it. However, if it's beyond repair, the card will eventually turn to dust. The Mist construct will fade with time."

"Why is he still here then?" "Dad" had stopped moaning but scratched absentmindedly at the chair arm. "And why does he seem so agitated? The other one doesn't care about anything outside of getting us to drink tea."

Claymore sighed. "That is the question, isn't it? It's been months. His card is barely more than a scrap and yet, he's not fading. The more time goes by, the more feelings it seems to possess. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. In the grand scheme of things, I've barely been here for all that long."

"Well," Nico started. "Where has he been? I didn't see him the first time I was here."

Claymore's eyebrows both rose until they almost met his hairline. "You didn't? He was here the whole time. Standing right over there." Claymore gestured to one of the doorways that, Nico presumed, led to a different area of the Stacks. "That isn't to say he's always here. There are some times I'll look up from a journal, and he is no where to be seen. I theorize it is part and parcel of fading." Claymore shook his head. "You must become more observant. How you _ever_ survived outside is a wonder."

Nico ignored him and came to sit near the original Dad. He reached out and gently brushed his knuckle across the Mistform's cheekbone. It leaned into his touch but remained silent. 

"Claymore? What are those things in the Stacks?"

Although he kept his attention focused on the construct in front of him and removed his hand from Dad's cheek, he heard the doctor sigh. "I told you before: I don't know. I have--"

"--theories. Yeah, I guessed as much." Nico studied the creature before him and cocked his head to the left. The construct mimicked his movements. Nico smiled. "Why didn't you tell me these things were alive?"

Claymore's eyebrows drew downward. "Perhaps I didn't tell you because...they aren't? The Mist constructs give the semblance of life, but they are not truly alive."

Nico frowned. Now that he was close to the construct, he felt the life--weak as it was-- flowing outward from the creature. It was as faint as an echo, but it was there all the same. 

Nico reached out his hand once more and rested it against Dad's cheek. The construct nuzzled into his palm, and a slight purring sound came from where its mouth should have been. 

Nico had questions for the son of Hecate.   
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long delay! I meant to get this out last week but time and life got in the way. I hope you all are enjoying the “weird” departure. Remember: kudos, likes, bookmarks, follows, and favorites are like gold to me! Actual comments are like oxygen-- pretty sure I can’t survive without them. Hope you guys have had an awesome February!!!


	4. Dulce Periculum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alabaster is lost in dreams and Nico tries something new.

Lord Hades gazed into the distance, the freezing cold of space settling like a mantle about his shoulders. Neptune rose on the horizon, vast and imposing in its majesty. Beyond the Blue Planet, farther than the mortal eye could see, Pluto continued on its journey around the sun, plodding ever onward. 

Hades shuddered, a feeling of unease spreading through his body. The back of his neck prickled. The Lord of the Underworld looked behind him, expecting some great monstrosity or, more than likely, his youngest brother come to drag him back to the mortal realm, all while lecturing him on leaving without permission. 

Like he _needed_ Zeus' permission. As if _he_ were ruled by his idiot of a brother who spent the better part of his existence bullying his family, seducing and raping women. 

When Lord Hades looked back, however, there was nothing. A light laugh-- soft and undulating giggles, rather-- rippled through the silence of space, seemingly coming from all around the god, echoing in impossible ways. He turned in circles, trying to pinpoint the sound. 

The grotesque titters stopped as suddenly as they had begun, leaving behind the strengthening feeling of no longer being alone. 

The god of the Underworld held still until he felt a slight wrinkle in the air, the smallest of breezes-- which was _impossible_ as there was no air to _feel_ \-- caressing his cheek. 

And then-- _pain_. 

Agony blossomed against the length of his left arm from fingertip to elbow. He tried to pull his arm toward him, but something held it fast, something rapidly becoming visible. Iridescent gold began to shimmer faintly, outlining a creature twice as large as the average human. Six tentacles waved languidly from a bulbous head. The god's arm was stuck in a thick proboscis settled in the center of the tentacles. As the creature became more and more visible, Hades realized _why_ \-- his blood was slowly coursing through the thing's body, rendering it visible.

With a cry of disgust and horror, Hades gained a more brilliant form, growing until the creature was forced to let go or burst. The thing surrendered the god's arm and propelled away from him, slowly losing the golden sparkle of ichor. 

A rippling wave of distorted and hideous laughter roiled in the darkness around him. Hades fled from the dark pool of space, venturing with all due haste to the Sentinel Planet, wondering, not for the first time, what horrors awaited him on the surface. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alabaster knew he was dreaming as soon as he opened his eyes. The harsh cold of the stone beneath his feet seemed somehow less than if he were awake. 

He cupped his hands in front of his mouth, regardless of the reality of the bitter cold, and breathed into them, letting the warmth from his breath heat his hands. He walked forward between pews, making his way to the empty altar. 

"Mother?" His voice echoed around the deserted sanctuary. Green fire danced in the braziers lining the enormous room. Their flame did little to light the corners of vaulted ceilings. "Mother?"

"Why didn't you save me?"

Alabaster turned, his breath hitching in his throat. A boy, no older than eleven, stood before him. His purple shirt hung off of him in tatters so that Alabaster could see the charred and blackened skin underneath. Tufts of hair sprouted from the son of Ares' head in random patches, and one of his eyes dribbled from its socket like egg whites not quite fully cooked. His mouth, when he opened it, oozed clotting blood. 

"Why didn't you save me?"

Alabaster choked. "I tried. You have to believe me. I tried."

Henry took a step toward him. "And Freddie? What about Freddie? What about the others?" The boy was so close to Alabaster now, he could smell the burned skin, could taste the acrid flesh on his tongue. He tried desperately to not gag and failed, dry heaving in front of the dead boy who began to shout. "What about the others, Alabaster? What about the others!?"

Alabaster spun and ran right into a pair of arms—a pair of arms belonging to a boy with an eyepatch. 

Alabaster stuttered, tears springing to his eyes. "E-Ethan."

"Why didn't you save us, Alabaster? Why didn't you save _me_?"

Alabaster could see Ethan falling, falling. Always falling. The fissure in the palace, in the throne room. Falling into open air and death as Percy and Kronos and everyone else watched. 

Alabaster pulled away from his old comrade. "You left me, Ethan. I tried following you. You shouldn't have gone with him. You didn't _need_ to. If the gods hadn't--"

"Oh no, Alabaster." Ethan's voice, frigid and cold, made Alabaster look up, sobs freezing in his chest. "The gods aren't to blame this time." Ethan's eye sparkled with malice. "It's _your_ fault. All your fault."

The familiar setting of the sanctuary disappeared. Alabaster fell through the darkness, guilt tearing at the demigod's heart until he fell onto red, powdery dirt. 

The son of Hecate could barely see through his tears, but he heard voices speaking near him, paying him no heed. 

_"What was it? That...that darkness?"_

Alabaster knew that voice. It was that irritating son of Hades. Nico. 

_"This door would allow you to walk again in some form or another, but...you will, in time, come to face an even more difficult choice-- a path that will bring you pain and suffering."_

And his mother. His mother was talking to Nico. 

_"If I choose this path, what will I be choosing?"_

He could hear the hesitation, the fear, the crumbling of one reality into another in Nico's voice. 

_"There is always a choice, Nico di Angelo. Even when there seems not to be."_

The quiet timber of their voices faded away until all that was left was the soft whistling of the wind through a natural stone archway. 

Alabaster lay still in the dirt, tracing his fingers idly through the powdery red. His tears dried in stiff tracks along his face. The breeze picked up, disturbing the iron-rich earth ruffling through Alabaster's hair. Beyond, behind, and intertwined with the air, the son of Hecate heard a voice, spoken in many languages and none at all, blaring painfully through his mind:

_I know the gate._

Alabaster covered his ears, trying to block out the impossibly loud voice. The hairs on his skin pricking up as if a lightning storm were about to manifest. 

_I am the gate._

Alabaster looked up toward the stone archway, the wind blasting him from all sides. 

_I am the key and guardian of the gate._

Alabaster pushed himself to his feet and, shielding his eyes and face with his arms, tried to step toward the archway. The violent wind pressed against him as he struggled toward the picture-frame stone.

As suddenly as the wind had begun, it stopped. Alabaster dropped his hands to his sides and slowly raised his eyes. Before him, a mass of orbs glowing from inside multitudinous writhing tentacles encompassed the entirety of the archway. And Nico. Nico stood before it, reaching out a hand, his eyes wholly black. 

_The last of secrets._

Nico's hand seemed to stretch forward as if Kronos had slowed time. 

_The first of secrets._

The glow of the orbs brightened, strengthening until Alabaster felt he was staring into the sun. 

_You still wield free choice._

And then the orbs drew Alabaster in, pulling him closer in their brilliance. Images played rapidly, one after the other, flashing so quickly in his mind, he barely registered their existence. But in all of them: Nico. 

Nico on Earth: fighting, laughing, crying. 

Nico in the dark, always in the dark: hiding, running, reaching out. 

It felt as if all the world's heat had focused on Alabaster to the point that the searing warmth turned to ice. And in it all, he could hear: 

_Help him find me._

Alabaster took a step backward, away from the sight before him. His heel caught, and he fell, his back hitting against something solid and rough: a tree. It glowed with ephemeral light, and, for a moment, Alabaster thought that the glowing orbs had followed him. But then he realized the golden glow came from a pelt of sorts nestled in the tree. Two reptilian eyes peered at him past the golden light. With a start, Alabaster saw the eyes belonged to a sinuous dragon wrapped around the tree.

A stab of pain through his gut made him look down. His right hand clutched at his stomach, which bubbled blood and explained the coppery taste lingering on the back of his tongue. Two hands cupped his face and pulled him to look straight ahead. 

It was Nico again, his eyes glassy with tears. 

"I swear on the Styx, let me go, and I'll bring help. They _will_ help!"

Alabaster searched Nico's eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you? Mistforms can't make oaths." The son of Hecate coughed, wincing as pain flared through his abdomen. "Besides, I don't want help from your boyfriend."

The scene began to fade. Alabaster realized he was starting to wake, morning bird calls and the woody sounds of the forest pulling him further into the land of the living. Nico's voice, when he replied, was faint. 

"I can't lose you, Alabaster."

Alabaster woke up.   
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nico should have known that as soon as he and Claymore started to have an exciting conversation that Alabaster would summon him. The son of Hecate seemed to sense the exact moment to call Nico to achieve the max level of frustration. 

As soon as Nico heard the bird calls, he opened his mouth to reprimand Alabaster but snapped it shut again upon seeing the demigod. The boy looked as though he hadn't slept at all. He looked even more haggard and pale than he had the previous day, if anything. Dark circles deeply entrenched the skin beneath his eyes. His skin had a sallow sheen and his mouth sagged at the corners. 

"I thought you said you were going to rest?" Nico crossed over to Alabaster and sat across from him, frowning as he did so. "Didn't anything I said to you yesterday resonate? You do understand when I talk, right?"

Alabaster grimaced and spoke defensively. "I _did_ sleep. Just had nightmares." The son of Hecate wiped a hand tiredly over his face. "But, good morning to you too."

Nico scoffed. "It doesn't seem like you slept. Besides, I wasn't with Claymore _that_ long. And I have--"

"Time works differently." 

"What?"

Alabaster spoke around a yawn as he repeated himself. "Time works differently. At least, Claymore thinks it does. You know, Dad never seemed to notice. But maybe that's because he was never really real. At least, not in the way you and Claymore are. Either way, Claymore says that sometimes time over there seems longer." Alabaster's stretching of his arms turned into a shrug. "Sometimes, it's short."

Nico frowned. "About that...the Mist. I have questions."

Alabaster raised his eyebrow but didn't say anything. 

Nico took a breath and forged ahead. "What's the library? Where is it? Can we get hurt? Mistforms, I mean. And," Nico plowed ahead, words pouring from his lips as if he would never stop. "Are there other Mistforms that used to be alive like Claymore? Like me?"

Alabaster opened his mouth to speak, but Nico showed no signs of stopping. Nico jumped to his feet and began to pace back and forth in front of Alabaster. 

"Why doesn't Hecate make all of her children into Mistforms when they die? What _are_ those things in the hallways? Why doesn't-- nevermind. I'll just ask Claymore about that later."

Alabaster seized upon a break in Nico's rapid-fire questioning. "Is that all? Are those all the questions you have?"

Nico stopped pacing and turned to face Alabaster. "What are your plans?"

Alabaster smiled half-heartedly. "Well, there's one question I _can_ answer. Simple: my plan is to keep moving." Alabaster groaned and stretched, climbing to his feet. He stooped over to pick up his backpack and straightened, slinging it over his shoulder. "I was running away from my sister up until a few weeks ago."

"Your sister...Lamia? Claymore said she tried to kill you. That she succeeded in killing Claymore."

Alabaster's face darkened. "That was my fault. I shouldn't have gotten him involved."

Nico shrugged. "I don't think he actually minds being able to read and think for all of his existence here on out."

Alabaster scowled. "Be that as it may, I'm now on my way to restock. If I remember right, Iris has a shop up North somewhere."

Nico frowned. "You mean R.O.F.L.?"

Alabaster looked over at Nico. "You know the place?"

Nico shook his head. "I don't, but my sister and a couple friends went there a few months ago." Nico scratched his chin. "I think Hazel said that's where Percy finally got his memories back."

Alabaster glared at Nico. "Percy?"

"Y-yeah. Percy." Nico blushed. "You know him?"

Alabaster didn't so much answer as he did growl. "Let's get moving. I really need to restock."

Alabaster strode forward, purposefully avoiding looking at the son of Hades. 

"What about my questions?" Nico scrambled after him. The slightly younger-looking demigod had a bewildered look on his face. 

"You can talk and walk at the same time, can't you?" Alabaster didn't look back but instead focused his gaze on the foliage in front of him. "So talk."

"Do you remember my questions?"

Alabaster snorted. "There were about a million of them. You're going to have to refresh my memory."

Nico cleared his throat. "So what exactly _is_ the library? Where is it?"

"What library?"

Nico hurried to match pace with Alabaster, glowering at the other demigod. "The place I go when I'm not here."

"The house in the Mist?" 

Nico nodded. 

"I didn't realize it had a library. Claymore and I don't talk about it much. He knows I don't really know anything about it." Nico continued to stare at Alabaster until the son of Hecate sighed. "I really _don't_ know a lot about it. I know I can almost get there in my dreams. But I never can make it through the black door. I don't even know how I would get there outside of dreaming either. Just because I can control the Mist doesn't mean I'm part of it."

Nico nodded thoughtfully and fell quiet, seemingly mulling over what Alabaster had told him. 

"Claymore said we can get hurt in this realm. What about in the Mist? Can we get hurt there? At the house?"

A look of puzzlement settled on Alabaster's face. "I don't even think there's anything you can hurt yourself on. You mean, like a papercut? Claymore mentioned some journals or something in the house."

"But what about the things in the Stacks?" Nico's eyes were wide. He barely registered the ground in front of him as he walked, preferring to focus his attention on Alabaster instead. 

"What things where?" Alabaster frowned. 

Nico didn't answer immediately. He looked out over the vegetation and woods, and it was several minutes before he spoke again. 

"What happens to the Mistforms after they die? Or, I guess, their cards fail? The ones you make?"

"They fade. Eventually, once the card is gone completely, they no longer have my power to draw on. The card is like a doorway-- I put and reserve some of my power and bring to life whatever is on the card. Whenever a card is damaged, it's like a door that swells in warm and wet weather--or a door handle that is slowly eroded over time-- it gets harder and harder to open until I can't open the door anymore. It takes less energy to summon one than it does to create one. I guess because once they exist, it's more like opening a door for them to get here. Does that make sense?"

Nico ignored the question and answered with one of his own. "So, in effect, the _door_ would cease to exist then, right? What about the Mistform?"

Alabaster shrugged. "They fade."

Nico wanted to argue but held his tongue, instead asking, "Have there been other Mistforms? Like Claymore and me?"

"I'm sure there had to have been." Alabaster nodded and cocked his head to the side. "I haven't made one like you two. But that's not saying it can't be done. Hypothetically speaking, anyway. Creating a Mistform like Dad or something takes quite a bit of energy. I'm not even able to summon them for several days after creating one, nevermind being able to defend myself if needed to after."

Alabaster bent to scoop up a handful of pine needles. "Let's say this is my energy for being able to manipulate and control the Mist. If it takes five needles to make a Mistform," Alabaster transferred a clump of five needles to his right hand, leaving one in his left. "I don't have enough energy to make another one or summon it. Eventually, those five needles come back to my hand, usually after enough rest. But," he put all the pine needles in one hand again. "Even with all six in one hand, it might take seven, or eight, or fifteen to make a _person_ into a Mistform."

Alabaster opened his hand and let all of the needles fall from his hand back to the forest floor. "Now, I might, in the future, have more needles. The more I practice and grow, the more needles I have. I have mostly all of the training I need-- at least the foundations. I might not know the words needed for an incantation or have the energy for it. _But_ ," Alabaster turned his head and grinned at Nico. "I have the knowledge and wherewithal to implement my practices once I have those things because I know how. A lot of magic-- of manipulating and using the Mist-- is visualization and a clear sense of purpose."

Nico nodded, understanding slowly spreading across his face. "Why don't you use the Mist to travel then? If you can visualize it? Like, creating a tunnel or something from one place to the other? Shortening the distance?"

Alabaster laughed, delight coloring his voice. "You're quick! I like that." Alabaster shook his head and smiled. "I could, and I have. But," Alabaster spread his hands apart. "I have pretty much no pine needles right now."

"Couldn't you just take some from me? Aren't I made entirely of Mist?"

Alabaster stopped walking and waited for Nico to do the same and face him. "You're different, Nico. You and Claymore. If you were like Dad, I could siphon off a bit of you as long as I left enough for you to still exist. You might not be able to function or be summoned until I put some back. But you and Claymore?" Alabaster laughed without mirth. "I _could_ take from you, but I don't know if it would act the same. If I would be able to replace it. I don't know what would happen to the both of you if I took too much."

Alabaster studied Nico in silence before beginning to walk again. "Anyway, do you have any more questions?"

The son of Hecate and the son of Hades walked in silence for several more hours. It wasn't until Alabaster decided to stop and rest and Nico had once again been returned to the house in the Mist that he voiced his question. The son of Hades faced a hallway door, Claymore sitting behind him engrossed in a journal. Nico asked, almost to himself as much to the mute Dad who stood next to him: "Can Mistforms use magic?"

"Hm?" Claymore did not look up from the journal in his lap. 

Nico didn't respond. He reached for the doorknob in front of him and pushed the door open. A different door than the one he had fled through before, the hallway extended some twenty feet before abruptly turning at a 90-degree angle and continuing to the right. Stale air invaded his nostrils as Nico took a hesitant step forward, Dad mutely following in his wake. The poorly lit hallway seemed older, more disused. The dust settled in a thick blanket on the floor, and the cobwebs littering the corners where ceiling met wall were ghostly and ancient. 

"Dad. Shut the door, will you?" The Mistform obeyed, and as soon as the door closed with a 'snick,' Nico walked forward, each step filled with caution. The dust muffled his footsteps, and Nico strained to hear any movement from ahead. He reached out, trying to sense any flicker of life. Besides the warped presence of Dad, Nico felt nothing. 

As soon as he reached the 90-degree bend, the son of Hades turned to face the door they had left behind. 

"Alright. Well, let's see if we can't make a little magic."

Nico had been somewhat put off by magicians in his day, back before his mother died, and he and his sister were left at the Lotus Hotel and Casino. The magicians he had seen had always been rather gaudy-- flashy and hokey. Now pirates-- _those_ had really caught his attention. Although, when he and Bianca had been collected from the Hotel, the billboard signs for Criss Angel had reminded him of a slightly gothic pirate; and, he had been surprised to realize that the billboard advertised an actual magician. Nico compared past magicians, Criss Angel, and Alabaster in his head. Alabaster was like no magician he had ever seen before. 

Nico shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He focused on the other side of the hallway. 

" _Incantare:_..." Nico frowned. He wasn't well versed in Latin and wondered if Italian would suffice. 

“ _Incantare: Me Stessa Mossa_.”

Nothing happened. Nico concentrated more intently, visualizing himself disappearing from where he was currently standing to hold a position by the door.

“ _Incantare: Me Stessa Moss_.”

Nothing.

"I swear---!" Nico scowled in frustration. The memory of Alabaster telling him Mistforms could not swear on the Styx came to mind as Nico said with feeling, " _Incantare: Me Stessa Mossa!_ "

Nico blinked at the door, barely an inch from his face. He spun around to see Dad walking briskly toward him, a slight keening coming from the Mistform. 

Nico stepped forward, a hand stretched out to Dad but gasped when a sharp pain flared through his head. He halted and clenched his eyes shut, unprepared for the sudden feeling. Nico was dead-- a _Mistform_ at that. He shouldn't feel pain anymore. 

The throbbing hurt dulled until it was gone altogether. Dad's keening was louder, closer. Nico looked up and realized the Mistform was standing next to him in obvious distress. Nico smiled wanly and waved the figure back. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm sorry I left you behind. I won't do it again."

The pair opened the door and stepped back into the library room where Claymore had yet to stir. He only looked up from the journal when he heard the door shut. 

"Oh? Did you go somewhere?" Claymore pulled his glasses off his face and surveyed Nico and Dad, one eyebrow raised. 

Nico shook his head. "Just stepped out in the hall for a moment." Nico crossed the room and took a seat beside the doctor. "Claymore, how long have you been with Alabaster?"

Dr. Claymore frowned. "Well, now, let's see. I think we'll be going on three months here shortly." He paused before nodding. "Yes, three months. Why do you ask?"

"Has Alabaster taught you anything about the Mist? Or this place?"

Claymore shrugged. "Not particularly."

Nico sighed. "So, he doesn't trust you either?"

The older man chuckled. "I wouldn't say he distrusts me. I just think his knowledge of this place is rather limited." The former mortal smirked at the son of Hades. "So, he doesn't trust you, eh?"

Nico scowled. "No. I swear on the Styx he can trust me."

Claymore laughed. "Hollow promises, my boy. Mistforms," he pitched his voice higher until Nico was confident he was trying to imitate Alabaster. "Cannot make oaths because they have no corporeal souls of which can be tied to fate." Claymore dropped his hand and chortled. 

Nico's eyebrows drew downward. "Did you already tell me that?"

The doctor shook his head. "Can't say that I have. But, if you said that around Alabaster, I'm sure he's given you the earful."

Claymore turned back to his reading material, leaving Nico to wonder why the idea of Mistforms being unable to make oaths and promises sounded so familiar.   
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First and foremost: I am in desperate need of a beta. If anyone is interested, please say so in a comment/review. I'd be eternally grateful.
> 
> Second: I wanted to dedicate this chapter to bvckbiter on Ao3 and chardancelot on FF.net. Thanks to to everyone who commented, reviewed, subscribed, bookmarked and favorited. Please let me know if anything doesn’t make sense (beyond things that obviously just haven’t been revealed yet)!!! I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Look forward to a quicker update than usual for the next chapter!


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